


HCs. My head is stripped just like a screw

by SevlinRipley



Category: It - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, First Kiss, Headcanon, Holding Hands, Love Confessions, M/M, Recovered Memories, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-17
Updated: 2018-07-17
Packaged: 2019-06-11 17:38:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15320712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SevlinRipley/pseuds/SevlinRipley
Summary: That’s been tightened too many timesWhen I think of youEddie takes a call from someone’s agent. Always their agent, or their handler. Never them, personally. He has to chauffeur some radio personality flying in from California to a meeting with some New York producers for a potential job transfer. ‘A highly important interview. He must arrive on time, no matter what he tells you; don’t let him distract you. And then he has a radio show in the same building, where you’ll pick him up and drive him to his hotel for the night.’





	HCs. My head is stripped just like a screw

**Author's Note:**

> So this HC was discussed back on May 12, 2018, and I know it deserves a full-fledged fic (by a better writer than myself, to be honest) but I just don’t have the energy, ever, anymore. And I think it might be too dear to my heart for me to request it be done by someone else.
> 
> This is an Alternate Canon hc, firmly based around Anderson!Richie and Christopher!Eddie, but feel free to picture it howeverthefuckyouwant.
> 
> Title from FOB's "The Last of the Real Ones"

  * Eddie takes a call from someone’s agent. Always their agent, or their handler. Never them, personally.
  * He has to chauffeur some radio personality flying in from California to a meeting with some New York producers for a potential job transfer. ‘A highly important interview. He _must_ arrive on time, no matter what he tells you; don’t let him distract you. And then he has a radio show in the same building, where you’ll pick him up and drive him to his hotel for the night.’
  * The plan is to keep the partition up. Let his client relax in the back, while Eddie gets him from point A to point B.
  * Only… When Eddie actually meets him. Shakes his hand with his finger-less leather gloves. The name starts ringing in his ears. _Richie Tozier_. He must’ve seen him somewhere before? On a bill board, in a magazine, on T.V.
  * But.


  * Eddie shakes his head, and takes Richie’s shouldered duffel, and settles it in the trunk of the car after he ushers Richie into the back seat.
  * The partition has already been lowered when he gets in the driver’s seat, and Richie, whose smile had dropped oddly off his face when he got settled, is talking to him.
  * Jokes seem to come easily, a verbal flow there that Eddie rarely hears from tired celebrities who want to just shut down for the drive. The voices come out light and exuberant, but something underlies the tone. Eddie can’t figure out why, exactly, and frankly, normally, he wouldn’t care.
  * He finds himself answering, responding not just because it’s his job to do so. Not because he has to be this friendly, likeable face of his company, if he wants it to keep growing. But because he _wants_ to.
  * Which is highly unusual, because Eddie - Eddie doesn’t really talk to _anyone_. He’s pleasant with his employees, and has well-rehearsed lines he delivers over the phone and through the partition on the rare occasions someone is feeling chatty (usually after imbibing the complimentary champagne in the mini-fridge.) But other than that, he tends to keep to himself, leading a quiet life that consists mainly of vitamin regimens, auto up-keep in the garage, and glances at the paper looking for he-doesn’t-know-what-but- _something_.
  * And as they talk, more and more, Eddie catches onto something slightly disturbing. In an almost exhilarating way?
  * He feels himself _caring_. More, and more, and more until he’s almost sure that it even extends to _loving_.
  * Why?
  * Why does he feel like he _loves_ this man? Why does he feel and sound familiar? Why does the way he cracks jokes sound… the same as something he’s never heard before.
  * Similarly, Richie’s breath keeps getting caught in his throat. Words slipping out at angles, slanted and wilting. It’s hard to keep pretending to be ON, when his chest feels like its tightening up for no other reason than, insanely, he’s feeling _more_ talking to this stranger than he has in years. Talking to _anyone_.
  * Like. He’s literally falling for this guy he just met and _what the fuck is happening_?
  * Richie doesn’t want to get out of the _God damn limo_ , for fuck’s sake.
  * He just wants to stay here and keep talking to _this guy_.
  * At the same time, Eddie’s _so tempted_ to take streets he knows are longer routes. That he knows will keep them together longer, which he _never_ does. It’s unprofessional, and why would he ever want to waste more time on duty than he has to, anyway?
  * Eddie keeps glancing into the rear-view mirror; so does Richie, because he can see these eyes behind glasses that look so familiar…
  * Richie’s hands are wearing holes in his pants from how many times he’s nervously smoothed his slacks along his thighs.
  * “We’re almost there,” Eddie finally, reluctantly assures him, glancing at the clock. He promised he wouldn’t let Richie be late, and he keeps his word despite himself.
  * He hears Richie heave a breath, and it almost sounds painful.
  * “Do you have a job in-between driving me home? - You wanna come up and listen to this radio interview I do after my business meeting? They’ll have like a little cafeteria if you’re hungry while you’re waiting for the show…?”
  * His tone makes Eddie’s heart _ache_.
  * And he still has no idea why.
  * Why this person wants him to come hear his show, why Eddie, himself, is glancing nervously into their mirror again as he nods his head, agreeing.
  * Eddie finds a place to park, miracle of miracles, and despite having offered to drop Richie off at the front so he didn’t have to walk, he was adamant that a walk would do his nerves some good.
  * For some reason, Eddie’s not sure he believes nerves has anything to do with it, but it sounds _nice_ , so he doesn’t object, or press.
  * When they get inside this very tall building, Richie gives him this look. This look of - regret - as he asks the receptionist at the desk where the cafeteria is located, for his ‘friend’, who’ll need a visitor’s badge, and also which floor his meeting’s on. And they’re different floors entirely. Of course. The cafeteria is in the basement, and Richie’s appointment is near the tippy-top of the building.
  * So they separate at the elevators, and Richie looks at Eddie before stepping through opening doors. Says, “You’re staying right? I’ll be able to find you down there, before the show?”
  * And Eddie can’t help the soft smile that spreads over his face as he says, “Yeah. I - Of course I am.”
  * “Good. Don’t run out on me, now. It’s gonna be a good show!”
  * They both know it’s not about the show. At least, individually, they both know that’s not the reason Eddie should stay.
  * Eddie doesn’t really eat. Just gets an iced tea that, without his badge, would be over-priced, most certainly. He’s nervously sucking at the edge of a lemon wedge when he sees Richie lean out of the elevator, scanning the open floor for Eddie’s face.
  * Things are moving backwards, almost. Love. Love to butterflies. But… Loving butterflies. And it doesn’t make sense, so Eddie swallows them down, and picks everything up to discard in the trash can as he makes his way over.
  * The DJ looks more than a little confused as Richie puts a hand on his shoulder and leans in close, keeping his voice low. But he nods, and agrees just the same, that Eddie can _silently_ sit in a chair by the door and watch the show unfold.
  * Their amount of eye contact should have Eddie fidgeting more. But he finds himself most entranced by the way Richie runs his hand up into his hair before putting on a crazy voice to answer a question Eddie doesn’t hear.
  * It’s smack-dab in the middle of the interview… in the middle of Richie being on-air, that they both think ‘Derry’ and their chests tighten unfathomably fast. They look at each other, falling into a dead silence.
  * Richie’s throat stops working altogether, and if Eddie’d been speaking, he’d be in the same exact boat.
  * Until Richie rasps out, right into his mic, “ _Eddie_?”
  * Something flashes in Richie’s eyes. A corner of his mouth pulls up.
  * It felt like the first time Eddie’d heard his name in decades. Decades.
  * And somehow, he can feel a tug in his heart, and his brain clicks, and he knows what’s about to come.
  * “Eddie _Spaghetti_?”
  * Eddie swallows something down, something between a laugh and a sob as his eyes sting, and he nods his head just a little. Feeling lightheaded. Flushing hot.
  * The DJ is very confused and also surprised. Because, ‘What?’
  * Richie remembers himself, and clears his throat, looking at the DJ, and then to his own mic, before he coughs into his fist. “Hey Bob, not gonna lie - I’m not feelin’ too hot. Sorry there, buddy, but I gotta -” And he’s ripping his headphones off, and he’s up out of his chair and Eddie’s standing to meet him in a fierce hug as the DJ balks behind them, and scrambles to recover.
  * Eddie vaguely wonders if Richie just threw away his future job for a hug.
  * Meanwhile, Richie’s trying not to fucking cry into Eddie’s hair; they’re definitely still too close to the mics, and Richie can only hope to be forgiven by not causing anymore damage.
  * They make it out of the studio, into the hallway. Where Richie’s trying not to pass out as he walks circles into the carpet, with Eddie leaning, arms folded over his chest, back against the white wall.
  * Eddie’s biting into his lip, tearing at it with short nails, as he studies the floor, overwhelmed, just like Richie. The very second they parted and the door closed securely behind them. Unsure of what to say, or what to do, or what’s happening.
  * “Am I crazy?” Richie keeps mumbling to himself.
  * Eddie’s just softly repeating, "No. No, I know you, too.” Over and over.
  * They’re a broken record for a long while until Richie’s leaning into Eddie against the wall, his palm pressed up, beside Eddie’s head, and his mouth so, so close to Eddie’s face. “Eds… Eds.”
  * He looks up at Richie, eyes wide and burrowing into Richie’s, at that.
  * Then he’s practically leaning forward - as if that name… those sounds… they’re magnetic - and he realizes he’s thinking about kissing Richie.
  * Eyes going even wider, Eddie’s body stutters. He slides along the wall and away and says, “Don’t - call me that?” Like it’s a question. He’s not sure. ( _Please call me that_.)
  * So Richie’s feeling a little… like, ‘Oh. No kiss then?’ Cause he definitely knew what was about to happen a second before Eddie backed off.
  * They manage to make it back to the limo, after returning their badges. Moving together in tense silence, but in sync all the same.
  * They start talking, huddled in the back together. Rattling off things they remember. Remembering more and more. They remember they were never dating, but it feels like they _should’ve_ been.
  * Richie is dumbfounded with his Derry!self because, ‘WHY didn’t he ask Eddie out?!’
  * @michael-hearteyes-wheeler Wow, Richie actually grew into a really handsome man. And wow, Eddie is still so cute and has fluffy hair, and Richie asks if he can run his hand through it.
  * His hand is in Eddie’s hair and Eddie’s _shaking_.
  * The next Richie gives him is _so soft_. A look of pure adoration, and Richie can’t stop himself from thinking, ‘ _Holy shit. I love him more than anything._ ’
  * And the words are spilling out, “Eds, I… -”
  * “I’m married.”
  * “What?” It’s kicked out of him. Like a horse punched him in the chest with his hoof.
  * “My wife,” Eddie starts, voice shaking as he pulls Richie’s hand down from his blond curls, into his lap, instead. “Myra,” he continues, like he’s reminding himself. “My wife’s name is Myra.”
  * “Oh. You -” Richie swallows back words that don’t come, and he sits back and studies Eddie’s hands, cupping his own and _huh_ , there is a wedding band on his finger, isn’t there? “She good to you?” he asks, hoping he doesn’t look as much like a kicked puppy as he suspects he does.
  * (He does. He does, and Eddie wants to kiss the lines on his brow away and reassure him. Of so much. But it’s all the truth. He’s married, and he now he doesn’t even know why. _How_. How he’s married to Myra.)
  * Still, the question lets a bitter laugh bubble up from with in his chest. “Not - she -”
  * “Not much of a ‘yes,’“ Richie says, quiet.
  * And then Richie’s turning his hand over in Eddie’s, leaning closer again, and saying, “Hey, Eddie… What would you say if I told you I think I’m in love with you?”
  * They’re still not fully themselves yet.
  * But Richie’s pretty sure that doesn’t matter.
  * Cause maybe if they were Richie wouldn’t recognize this for what it is: He’s _IN LOVE_ with Eddie.
  * @michael-hearteyes-wheeler Richie, quietly, says, “You deserve better, Eddie. I’d be good to you.”
  * And … Eddie just breathes out, and like, he’s panicking a little, but it sounds _good_? All of it. Richie being in love with him. Richie being good to him. It’s so good. So, so good.
  * But, "I’m still married.”
  * “They invented divorce a long time ago, Eds.”
  * This makes Eddie’s head spin because it sounds like perfect logic. At least in this moment, it sounds exactly like something that’s going to happen. Eddie? Is going to get a divorce? ‘ _Am I?_ ’
  * And the look on Eddie’s face… His thoughts are written there and Richie’d love nothing more than to press Eddie back into the seat and show him just one of the many ways he can be better. Better for Eddie.
  * Seal the deal. ‘I’m it. Please let me be it.’
  * “Can… We have lunch first, maybe?” Eddie asks, eyes searching Richie’s face, curling his fingers in on Richie’s, voice a little jagged and desperate.
  * “Yeah, Eddie,” Richie says, _soft_. Because he loves Eddie, and wants him to be comfortable. “We can have lunch first.”
  * And they go and eat at a Subway and sit across from each other in this public place, knees bouncing with nerves.
  * Their body language is totally: open legs toward each other, and Eddie’s breaking out in these random, pure smiles every so often for no reason. 
  * And Richie’s feeling a little more confident even though they’re talking about stupid cars and stupid interview guests like they even give a _fuck_ about any of those things right now.
  * Because he’s getting the feeling Eddie’s gonna admit it. That he feels it too: They’re in love. They probably always have been, but weren’t in a position to do anything about it.
  * _Holy shit_ **how** could Richie have forgotten him…? But thank God, because now he can make it right?
  * Eddie has a job, but. He can call one of his employees to take over. He’s the owner, after all.
  * “The _owner_ huh?” Richie says, a little flirty. Eddie’s already said that, when he welcomed Richie into the limo and assured him he was in safe hands with Eddie’s company. But Richie’s pretending Eddie being a _boss_ is brand new so he can quirk a brow and be ~impressed.
  * He wants to see Eddie blush; he’s not flirting with him to pressure him, or make him hurt Myra more than he’s already going to. He just needs to see the way Eddie’s face crinkles in a smile, pleased and proud of himself when Richie applauds his position.
  * He’d do anything for Eddie, even if it meant breaking his own heart, but he’s pretty sure it won’t come to that. He’s pretty sure Eddie has agreed that Myra’s not going to be in the picture anymore. Richie’s… almost certain.
  * When they get back into the limo, Eddie in the driver’s seat, and Richie at his side - Richie hovers his hand above Eddie’s, where its resting on the gear shift. And asks if he can hold Eddie’s hand.
  * This earns him a sweet, but momentarily shocked smile, like Eddie’s not even sure why Richie had to ask, but also grateful that he did. Because it was thoughtful and careful.
  * He turns his hand over, presents his palm to Richie, inviting him to lock their fingers together.
  * And Richie’s melting, burning, _evolving_ with it.
  * Clutching Eddie’s hand in his own and asking himself if _this_ is why he’s never felt truly connected to another human before. Because he - he’d been holding out for this guy he didn’t even know existed.
  * Everything is still so murky…
  * They’re not even fully… aware that IT exists, and is the reason they forgot growing up and their hometown and each other. They just know that… they did and they’re not crazy cause it’s fucking mutual.
  * They _kind of_ remember their other friends but not really, cause their faces aren’t there.
  * So of course they keep talking. Richie’s trying really hard to remember their friends, talk himself back into his memories. While Eddie’s kind of reticent to remember _more_ people today cause this is already _so much_. So huge, so overwhelming - God, he’s _leaving Myra_ and he’s _in love_ with a man and he’s - (maybe not going to be a virgin for the rest of his life?)
  * But he’s still helping as much as he can because it’s more scary that he doesn’t _know_ things? Doesn’t remember things about his own life, to the point he wasn’t even _aware_ he didn’t remember them.
  * [@michael-hearteyes-wheeler](https://tmblr.co/m0YsYAIPLv_858gXCD3DTGw) They are just suspended in this strange memory bubble of each other, and not a lot else. Pieces are missing, but they _are_ coming back and it’s just: _love and feeling_.
  * “Not to - This isn’t me… being _me_ , or anything, Eds, but. Do you maybe wanna go somewhere? To talk? Or even… like -” He wants to sleep _by_ Eddie. Like, he can’t fucking fathom leaving Eddie’s side even though he is well aware he’s not gonna walk into Eddie’s house and be like, ‘BYE MYRA’ _for_ him. But also, what if they forget each other once they’re out of each other’s sight again!? He’s fucking _TERRIFIED_ actually. Under his skin, he just. can’t. let go. of Eddie.
  * Not yet.
  * Pleasepleaspleasplease.
  * He’s so desperate to keep Eddie close. He doesn’t even actually want to sleep, doesn’t want to close his eyes for longer than a **_blink_**.
  * Eddie feels this all radiating off of Richie and he cups Richie’s face in his hand.
  * “I’m not…” ‘I’m not gonna leave you,’ he wants to promise, but he doesn’t know how this works?
  * So maybe - maybe. “Yes. Let’s go somewhere.”
  * They go to Richie’s hotel. And they move through various drafts of awkward silence, contemplative silence, completely-engulfed-in-studying-each-other silence. Waves of talking about nothing-important, and back to their childhood. Through memories that now have their chests aching because their clearest, most recent memories are from when they were apart, and none of that even feels _real_ anymore. Like their minds are trying to build a fictional life where they’d been together like they were always meant to be, taking an eraser, messily, to the life they actually led.
  * Eddie eventually ducks beyond his shyness to ask if he can take a shower. Smiles soft and sweet when Richie jokingly-but-not-joking-at-all, says, “You promise you’ll come back, right? You’re not gonna disappear in there, are ya?” And assures him it’ll be the fastest shower Eddie’s ever taken in his life.
  * He comes out, wrapped tightly in the provided robe, and asks Richie, quietly, if that’s okay.
  * “More than okay… I - only brought one extra change of clothes, but if you’d be more comfortable…”
  * But Eddie _is_ comfortable. More comfortable than he feels like he’s felt in his entire life.
  * With a hand on the back of his neck, Richie nods toward the bathroom. “Guess I should get the New York grime off, too, huh?” Again, he doesn’t want to leave. At all. But he can tell that Eddie’s still carrying himself in a way where this room isn’t his, and he’s taking up space on the arm chair, rather than the bed where Richie’s desperately hoping he’ll sleep.
  * “You… You think we’ll get any shut-eye tonight?” he asks, hand on the frame of the door. Certain he’s going to leave it ajar just in case.
  * Eddie says he doesn’t know, looking at the bed with his head cocked to the side just slightly. Making Richie’s chest puff up. Body itching to move into his space and take him in his arms and _beg_.
  * Beg him to tell him one more time that Eddie’s sure he won’t go anywhere if Richie takes a shower, if Richie falls asleep like his traitor of a body is threatening to do.
  * Beg him to say that tomorrow will be a beginning rather than an ending. He’s already completely written off his flight home, personally. Though he’ll have to call his agent about it. About the week or… longer. Longer. Forever? He’s going to be gone from LA. His agent who’ll calm his producer with lies about befallen illnesses and words so charming they might as well have come out of Richie Tozier’s mouth. Well taught.
  * “Well,” he says, instead, throat tight, and eyes pleading, “Get comfortable, anyway…” Just lightly tilting his head toward the bed.
  * When Richie comes out, towel around his waist, a goofy grin spreads over his face as he sees Eddie lounging back on the bed, pillow tilted down under his head, hands folded over his stomach and ankles crossed. He looks good. Good enough to take someone’s breath away, but peaceful enough to settle it just the same.
  * He doesn’t have pajamas. Sleeps in the nude, usually, but Eddie only - only very slightly tenses when Richie pulls out just a pair of boxers from his bag before rushing back into the bathroom, to re-emerge sans towel.
  * “Want me to. Sleep in the chair,” Richie asks, acting nonchalant as he picks his glass of wine up from the night stand and brings it to his lips.
  * “No,” Eddie breathes. He knows he’s been reckless in his bravery. Almost, anyway. He called Myra to inform her that he wasn’t sure he’d be able to make it back into town for the evening, an emergency client having asked him to drive him out of the city. He isn’t reckless enough to make her worry needlessly. But he is reckless enough to claw through the fear that’s over-grown in his chest. Enough to whisper out, “Sleep here.”
  * He thinks he can almost remember sleeping with Richie before. Lying on their sides, facing each other, talking in hushed tones later into the night than they’d promised Richie’s parents.
  * His parents. Eddie wonders if…
  * The lights flicking off at the switch Richie’s standing by breaks Eddie away from it. Something uncomfortable and cloying in the back of his mind. Another reason to avoid remembering. Another reason to just stay here in this moment and let it be what it is and not go searching for anything else. Anything more.
  * “You okay?” Richie asks, kneeing up onto the bed, careful as a cat stalking prey it doesn’t want to scare off. The light from the bathroom casts Richie as a silhouette. And Eddie’s grateful it’s not pitch black. Not tonight. Not when he’s finding out there’s so much darkness, so many black spots in his mind.
  * Eddie rolls onto his side, and they’re both mimicking memories Eddie’s not even sure are real. “Rich… What if. I don’t want to remember anything but us?”
  * Silence answers him, and then a breathy chuckle, as Richie’s hand comes to his arm, and a thumb circles over his elbow through microfiber cloth.
  * “I’d say that sounds perfect, but dangerous.”
  * Eddie allows him to explain why, and allows himself to agree. They make plans as they’re yawning, and falling asleep, and falling closer together at the very same time.
  * In the morning Richie goes with him, to his and Myra’s home, and he packs a fucking bag and Richie’s in the car, _not forgetting him_ , and he tells Myra he’s sorry, so sorry. That they’ll figure everything out with lawyers; he’s _SORRY_.
  * Then he goes back out to the car and Richie’s leaning against his door and Eddie just rushes up, into him and fucking kisses him.
  * Fucking kisses his heart out and it’s perfect and amazing and he’ll never _NEVER_ be able to forget Richie again, god damn it.
  * They’ll go to Derry, to try to cement things, figure out how to make that true.
  * Mike Hanlon will sob as he embraces them, the very second he realizes who’s standing in front of him in the library, and say something off-putting, scared, and desperately relieved like, “It’s not time yet… You’re not meant to be here. How did you find each other?”
  * (Spoiler alert: It’s never time. They killed Pennywise, for real, almost, roughly, 27 years ago.)
  * (Spoiler alert: They get married and invite their friends to the wedding, and that’s why everyone else comes back to Derry and remembers them and the town gets full-up with love instead of fear.)
  * (Spoiler alert: The spell of forgetting doesn’t really… break, but they write each other all the time, and so none of the Losers forget each other ever again and they meet every Christmas/Thanksgiving/Hanukkah.)




End file.
